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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28840017">Oh, Loverboy!</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/manicteen/pseuds/manicteen'>manicteen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1980s, 80's Music, Childhood Friends, Football, Foreigner, Friends to Lovers, Highschool Parties, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Madonna - Freeform, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slow Burn, Song inserts, Strangers to Lovers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 14:01:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,582</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28840017</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/manicteen/pseuds/manicteen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is hopelessly devoted to Louis. He's fallen the victim to unrequited love that he knows will always be one sided, unfortunately. There is no way Louis is like him. Everyone hates people like him. But, as if his feelings weren't already obnoxiously strong enough, the universe decides throw Louis at him, literally. Damn the universe for pushing him ever closer to the inevitable plummet of doom. The inevitable plummet of rejection and the hatred that will come along with it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of this happened, it is not real. This work does not reflect upon the real life people that are mentioned within this story. The characters and the story belong to me. Please do not repost this anywhere. Do not distribute or print this. Do not translate it without my permission. Thank you </p><p>Hiiii everyone!! So, this is my first fan fic and I would really appreciate your feedback. I have added some songs that I think fit certain parts of the chapter, and I will do this for every chapter :) I hope you enjoy Oh, Loverboy and don't forget to comment. I love seeing your reactions and guesses as to what is going to happen!! Thank you so much for reading :)</p><p>IMPORTANT NOTICE!! I have updated this because I didn't like it and wanted to change the location. (27-1-21)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <a href="https://youtu.be/ZcyCQLewj10">Song: Tainted Love, Soft Cell</a>
</p><p>The sun shines through his window, filling his bed with unforgivable warmth. Harry scrunches his nose, hoping this action will spite the universe for taking him away from his dream. The dream in question was all comfortable warmth, hands, soft kisses, and blue eyes. Those blue eyes that are, almost, the vain of Harry’s existence. Almost, because he is hopelessly in love with the bearer of those damned blue eyes.</p><p>“<em>Fuck.</em>”</p><p>He grumbles, the sound getting caught in the fibers of his grey comforter. He slips out cautiously, the sheets hissing under him. Picking up the first pair of, maybe clean, briefs he sees, he slides them over his thighs, letting the waistband linger in front of his skin before letting it go. The dull stinging waking him up a bit.</p><p>He hurries to dress himself. Just a simple, patterned button up, and some black pants secured tightly around his hips with a brown belt. His white trainers are a must, though he wouldn’t quite describe them to be white. More of a light tan shade.</p><p>The stairs creak under his quick feet. Once he’s made his way downstairs, he’s greeted by his mother, Anne, making a full course breakfast.</p><p>“You hungry, sweetheart?” She flips the eggs carefully, as to not break the yolk.</p><p>“Nah, think I’m going to head out. Don’t want to be late on the first day back.” <em>Don’t want to be late, as I might catch a glimpse of Louis before my first class</em>, is what he really thinks, but of course he doesn’t say it.</p><p>“You sure?” Concern rides the edge of her voice.</p><p>“Yes mother, I’m sure.”</p><p>One foot is out the door, the other following swiftly after.</p><p>“<em>Shit</em>.”</p><p>He hisses at his sudden loss of gravity as he flies down the stone stairs towards his bike. He catches himself, saving his face from the harsh smack of pavement at the last second. He, very carefully, swings his long legs over the bike, his feet touching the ground. His bike isn't too old, his mom just didn't expect him to hit a massive growth spurt over the summer and outgrow it so soon. He rings the small bell on the handle three times. It's a superstition of his, <em>third times the charm. </em>Maybe one day the charm will work, it hasn't so far, but Harry hasn't found a reason to stop trying. He pushes his way out his driveway and starts off towards his own personal hell.</p><p>***</p><p>As the school yard comes into sight, he lets out a soft sigh. An entire summer without seeing Louis did things to him. Fidgety on some days, too sad to get out of bed for others. And if some nights he listened to Foreigners I Want to Know What Love Is and cried himself to sleep, that’s nobody's business but his.</p><p>Yes, Louis was his neighbor but that didn’t mean he saw him. He might have caught a glimpse of his truck backing out of the driveway every now and then, seen him sneaking out once or twice during one of Harry’s very intense crying sessions, but not enough to satisfy him. School gave him his daily fix of the petite boy. But, not for much longer seeing as this is Louis’ last year before he takes off to college, leaving the town behind, leaving Harry behind.</p><p>With that thought, Harry speeds up, pedaling furiously to get to the school as quickly as he can. Once he’s there, his feet don’t see the need to slow down. His usual calm and collected, leisurely pace won’t do. Everything about this year is urgent and he has no time to waste, no time to spare. Getting to his locker is his main goal, since Louis’ friend group has established the locker a few rows down to be their hangout spot. Harry needs to get there first, needs to get his things in his locker so he doesn’t have anything else to focus on, but the soft curve of Louis’ jaw and sharp cut of his cheekbones. He gets lost in his own headspace, thinking of the way his back dips to differentiate between it and Louis’ painfully perky bum, that he doesn’t realize he’s turning a corner at an incredible speed. He is only brought out of his embarrassing thoughts when he rams straight into the person rounding the corner in the opposite direction. They both end up on the floor, muttering curses under their breaths.</p><p>“Watch where you’re going next time, dickhead.”</p><p>The other boy is already standing up and dusting off his pants.</p><p>As soon as Harry hears the melodic scratch of the boy's voice he instantly freezes in his attempt to get up. Sweat prickles the back of his neck. He’s almost positive his face turns a bright shade of red. As if Harry wasn’t totally fucked already, the boy extends his hand to him. Obviously Harry is an idiot, because he takes it. A couple hundred stars are born, Harry thinks. This is why stars are in the sky, because of moments like these. Louis’ hand is small compared to Harry’s, fitting in his palm with ease, like it was meant to be melded to Harry’s for the rest of eternity. An angry blush creeps up his neck at the sensation. His hand doesn’t get the memo that he should let go, but it doesn’t seem that Louis’ does either. Harry stares at him, admiring the closeness to the boy he hasn’t been granted since they were children. He doesn’t realize Louis is speaking to him until he feels a slight squeeze from the boy’s fingers before losing the contact completely.</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“I said, in a hurry, were you?”</p><p>“Oh, yeah. Yeah I guess so. Sorry.” Harry hangs his head down, pawing at his neck. No matter how much he wants to get lost in Louis’ beauty, he’s too embarrassed to allow himself that privilege.</p><p>“‘S alright, Harry.”</p><p>He whips his head up as fast as humanly possible. He just said his name. He remembers him. Louis just said his name. He grabs his backpack straps in hopes that it will prevent him from losing consciousness. His lungs don’t know whether to explode or retract into themselves. Louis has driven his entire body into an ice cold lake of shock.</p><p>He raises his eyebrows at him, waiting for anything to come out of the curly haired boy's mouth.</p><p>“Ahh,” Louis rocks back on the heels of his feet, face angled sideways like a cute little puppy, “You don’t remember me do-”</p><p>“No, not even! Of course I remember you.” Harry shakes his head a bit frantically, somewhat bordering on mental. <em>How could he ever forget him?</em> “We’re uhm,” He pauses, placing a clammy hand to the back of his neck, “also still sorta neighbors, so, uh, yeah I remember you.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah. Right, right.”</p><p>The small fingers that were wrapped around Harry’s hand mere minutes ago, slide into the front pockets of Louis’ jeans. He looks around the hallway, over Harry’s shoulder, his eyes coming back to land right on his side profile. He turns his head back to Louis, curls tightly trapped behind his ears.</p><p>“It helps that the person I have to remember hasn't really grown much since we last spoke.” Harry laughs at his own joke, the slight outline of his dimples surfacing.</p><p>“Bite me.” Louis crosses his arms over his slightly puffed out chest. “At least I know how to use my legs.”</p><p>“Hey! I said I was sorry.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah Mr. giraffe legs.” They both try to stifle their laughter as the hallway begins to fill with new and familiar faces. The first day jitters can be felt from all around them. It breaks them from their little bubble they were starting to build. He takes a shaky hand through his hair, watching as Louis follows the movement with his eyes.</p><p>“Well, uh, Louis, see ya around.” Harry gives him a small wave and nod before ducking his head and starting off at a stride towards his locker.</p><p>“Harold!”</p><p>“Harry.” He deadpans, “Lewis?”</p><p>Louis scoffs and looks at his feet, before returning eye contact, “There’s a party at mine on Friday, you should come. Maybe make some friends, meet some girls. I’m sure they’ll dig those giraffe legs of yours.” He wiggles his eyebrows a bit, taking a small step back on his left leg. <em>Harry doesn’t want to meet girls, girls are the last thing on his mind</em>.</p><p>“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there.”</p><p>“Rad! Alright, Harry, I guess I’ll see you Friday then?”</p><p>“Yep.” He pops the p at the end. Harry turns around quickly, too quickly. He trips over his own feet, looking back to see Louis holding his hand over his mouth trying to catch his laughter. The blush that he so skillfully avoided during most of their conversation breaks out on his skin. Louis shakes his head, sending a small wave Harry’s way. He turns around, managing not to trip on air, and disappears behind the fateful corner.</p><p>The bustle around Harry is slightly muddled in his ears. He can’t quite hear everything as he’s still trying to process what just happened.</p><p>If he ever thought he could get over Louis, he was really kidding himself.</p><p>That seems damn near impossible.</p><p>
  <em>Damned blue eyes.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Party time!!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hiii!! Thank you so much for continuing to read my fic, I really appreciate it!! From now on the chapters will be this length, if not a bit longer. I'm going to be posting once a week, maybe a little past a week if I'm swapped with school. Make sure to comment, I love to see your feedback and reactions!!!<br/>BTW in the image linked for Louis' outfit, it is the middle one.</p><p>Disclaimer: Again, nothing in this story really happened. It is all fiction. The characters in this story do not reflect upon the real life people that the story is based upon. Do not publish or print this without my permission. Do not translate without my permission. Do not repost without my permission. Thank you. </p><p>Enjoy chapter two!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Yo, Harry, over here!”</p><p>He whips his head towards the sound, his hair moves along with the motion, slapping him in the face. He puffs his cheeks and huffs a bit dramatically as he makes his way to the blonde boy. Harry reaches out and ruffles the boy's hair, making him yelp and slap his hand away, attempting to tame his frizz.</p><p>“Harold.”</p><p>“Neil.”</p><p>They both burst into laughter, clutching their stomachs. Harry had missed Niall.</p><p>“How was your summer?” He tosses a grape into the air, attempting to catch it in his mouth. He fails. It hits the girl at the table behind them. The entire table turns toward them, muttering complaints and rolling their eyes at Niall’s immaturity. Harry has to put his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. He swings his leg across the bench and sits down before answering his friend's question.</p><p>“All good.” He says, lying straight through his teeth. He snatches a grape from Niall, popping it into his mouth; his face settling on a satisfied smirk after he’s swallowed it. A few beats pass while Harry tries to locate Louis.</p><p>“Are you going to ask me how mine was?” Niall rests his head on his palm, batting his eyelashes at Harry. He’s quick to swipe Niall’s arm from under him, his face making a loud noise on impact. He stays there for a second with his head resting on the table, letting his fire hydrant ears cool off.</p><p>“How was your summer, Niall?”</p><p>“I hate you.” His words are slightly muffled. When he finally lifts his head, red splotches still linger on his cheeks, “It was alright. Would’ve been better if my best bud wouldn’t have declined every single party or plan to hang out with me.”</p><p>“Come on, Niall, you know I was busy.”</p><p>This time he isn’t lying. Between working, wallowing in his old self pity, and dealing with the repercussions of a steady relationship with unrequited love, there was little time left to get shit-faced at a party. Drinking would only make him sink deeper into the ocean of his own making.</p><p>“You know what, I actually don’t care anymore. You wanna know why?”</p><p>Niall waits. Harry doesn’t react at first, only staring.</p><p>“Oh! Oh, yes, tell me all about the miraculous summer adventures of Niall Horan.”</p><p>“Oh, put a sock in it.” Niall rolls his eyes, scoffing a bit at Harry’s very clear sarcasm, “As I was saying, I actually don’t care that you didn’t hang out with me because then I’d still be a virgin.”</p><p>“You got laid? Bogus.” Harry swipes the air, trying to swat away the lie that was just thrown at him.</p><p>“Dude, I’m not lying. I went to a lot of parties.” He shrugs, leaning back slightly in his chair, “What can I say, chicks dig the blonde.”</p><p>“You’re not even a real blonde.”</p><p>“Doesn’t matter, still blonde, and no longer a virgin.”</p><p>“I highly doubt that last part, but whatever lie gets you through the day.”</p><p>“You’re just jealous ‘cause you still haven’t gotten any.”</p><p>Niall throws a grape in the air, this time actually catching it.</p><p>“Okay mister ‘I got laid once now I am the superior being’”</p><p>“Hmm I kind of like that. Maybe I should make that my new saying. ‘I got laid once and now I am the superior being to the Harry Styles.’ Ooh! Maybe I should put it on my job resume too! That'll land me a couple interviews.”</p><p>While laughing at Niall, Harry’s eyes slip to the side. Green instantly locks with blue. He doesn’t even have to look around, because they are right there waiting for him. His breath hitches in his chest.</p><p>Louis is sitting at the far side of the lunchroom. On his right is his friend and captain of the football team, Patrick. On his left is a girl. Harry doesn’t know her name, but he doesn’t care. Jealousy spikes his veins like poison. It’s a nasty, burning feeling deep in his gut and he hates it. Hates that he feels this way, hates that there's nothing he can do about it.</p><p>He pats the table with his palm, pushing himself up. The hot blood running through his body stunts his ability to talk, so he makes an attempt to leave without giving Niall an explanation. Obviously he can’t because Niall is a nosy bitch.</p><p>“Heyyy, where are you going?”</p><p>“Bathroom.”</p><p>It’s short and sharp, sure to leave a cut; he leaves him no choice but to wipe away the blood, and any form of questioning, with his thumb. Harry gives him a little salute before slipping into the hallway.</p><p>The bathroom is empty once he gets there, and Harry says a silent thanks to whoever is listening. He splashes water on his face. His knuckles turn white as he grips the sides of the sink. If he could, he would punch the glass of the mirror. What’s seven more years of bad luck when he’s already lived through 16?</p><p>***</p><p>
  <strong>
    <a href="https://youtu.be/JO9h1fQU_-k">Song- Material girl, Madonna</a>
  </strong>
</p><p>Everything’s going surprisingly well.</p><p>Sure he might have had to use his inhaler for the first time in a couple months, but other than that, everything’s going great. He’s currently trying to calm his nerves by having a small dance party in only his towel. A tooth brush hangs out the side of his mouth. He uses the foamy object as a microphone.</p><p>“...cause the boy with the boy with the cold hard cash...” He babbles, shifting his hips to the beat, “...is always mister ri-ight!”</p><p>He had taken most of his sister’s CDs when she left for college; Madonna’s Like a Virgin was, and still is, among his favorites he snatched.</p><p>He fluffs, parts, and brushes his hair just so. Giving himself one more look in the mirror he smiles, then frowns, then smiles again, extra wide to show off his dimples.</p><p>He glides over to his closet, taking a look at the selection. The hangers make a clicking sound as he swipes one shirt after another across the pole. He stops when he spots a blue button up with vertical, white stripes. He hums to himself and plucks the jean jacket from his desk chair.</p><p>“...living in a material world, and I am a material girl!” He imitates the little squeaks that Madonna does. Though, it sounds more like little growls with his low voice. He grabs some briefs, definitely clean this time, and jeans from their designated drawers. The denim of his pants is slightly darker than that of the jacket, so they won’t clash. Once he has his black belt looped securely around his waist, white socks halfway up his calves, and shoes tied and double tied, he makes his way over to his mirror for a <a href="https://vintagedancer.com/wp-content/uploads/Levis-mens-denim-jacket-jeans-glasses-366x500.jpg">last check. </a></p><p>“Okay.” Harry blows out a big breath, “Hi, I’m Harry!”</p><p>He shakes his head at himself, <em>he already knows that.</em></p><p>“Okay let’s try this again.”</p><p>Material girl still blares through his speakers.</p><p>“Hey, Louis, thanks for inviting me! I’m in love with you!” He instantly screams through gritted teeth and slaps himself on the forehead. His bed engulfs his body as soon as he hits it. The next track starts and Madonna’s giggles echo through his head.</p><p>“<em>I’m so screwed.</em>”</p><p>***</p><p>The party is in full swing by the time he’s standing on Louis’ front porch. Harry wasn’t sure what time he was supposed to show up, since he didn’t get a specific time on Monday. But, he sort of guessed it had started about 30 minutes prior, if the lined up cars were any indication. He raises his hand to knock, but the door swiftly opens.</p><p>“Were you just about to knock?” Is the first thing Louis says.</p><p>Harry wasn’t all that prepared to see him when he first walked in. He actually had a plan:</p><p>Phase one. <em>Get some drinks </em></p><p>Phase two. <em>Linger around the party, try and spot the boy </em></p><p>Phase three. <em>Once boy has been spotted, get more drinks </em></p><p>Phase four. <em>After he is so drunk he can’t think very straight, (Ha.) get in Louis’ general vicinity. Maybe throw him a small smile. </em></p><p>Now that his plan has been royally messed with, he doesn’t exactly know how to form a proper sentence. It doesn’t help that <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/b0/fa/7d/b0fa7dddca8a9d5a002f6a9cfd954b06.jpg">Louis looks</a> like a god in jeans. Jeans that fit snugly around his thighs and become somewhat baggy near his ankles. He doesn’t know whether to thank someone or punch them in the face for putting the idea of wearing those jeans in his head. The button up he’s wearing is tucked into his pants. The sleeves are rolled up, exposing his delicate wrists.</p><p>“Uh. Yeah?” Harry doesn’t really know what’s coming out of his mouth. The alphabet is no longer A-Z. Words are just letters scattered about in tomato flavored soup.</p><p>“You haven’t been to a party.” It’s not a question.</p><p>“Gave it away that quickly, did I?” Harry lets out a breathy laugh at himself.</p><p>“Yeah, the whole knocking thing is kind of a no-go.”</p><p>Harry shoves his hands into his back pockets, tapping his foot on the pavement. Electricity can be felt radiating from Louis’ body as he lets out a small giggle. It sends a shock wave down Harry’s spine.</p><p>“Drink?”</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“Drink. Do you want a drink? We have plenty over there.” Louis says, thumb pointing to the left.</p><p>“Oh, yeah sure.”</p><p>Harry finally steps in. It hits him harder than he was expecting. The nostalgia of their childhood; minus the pungent smell of alcohol and sex crazed teenagers.</p><p>The first time he realized he liked boys was in this house, along with the horrible realization he was in love with his best friend. And, even worse, that what he felt wasn’t accepted. That if he ever tried to express his love, he would instantly be hated by everyone. The person he loved, included.</p><p>
  <em>Drinks. Definitely time for drinks. </em>
</p><p>***</p><p>A raven haired boy leans against the island smoking what looks to be a blunt. Harry could swear he’s seen him hanging around the school. Not really in classrooms and such, but outside by the football field or leaning casually against a brick wall. He’s usually doing what he’s doing now, smoking and loitering.</p><p>Harry tries to avoid him, grabbing a beer from the fridge and popping the top off before taking a big swig, almost downing the entire thing in one go. Something about being here for the first time in 7 years makes him want to forget about all the good memories and erase it with alcohol induced vomiting.</p><p>“Alright?” He exhales a cloud of smoke as he speaks. His brows raise slightly, but his eyes remain unbothered, unphased.</p><p>“Fine. You?”</p><p>The gritty scrape of a lighter fills the silence. He brings the blunt up to his lips, inhaling and hollowing out his cheeks. Smoke filters out of his mouth like a practiced motion; Harry doesn’t doubt that it is. His eyes shut, allowing his eyelashes to rest on his cheeks. The now blown out smoke curls around Zayn’s head, dispersing after a few seconds.</p><p>“Wanna hit?”</p><p>“Uh, nah, I’m gonna pass.” Harry raises his beer in Zayn’s direction. One outlet of intoxication is enough for tonight.</p><p>“All good.” He nods his head slightly, looking around the empty kitchen. He walks away, trailing the scent of weed and leather behind him. Harry swallows the rest of his beer and grabs another one, easily drinking a third of it before he’s interrupted again.</p><p>A group of girls enter the small kitchen, their chatter dies down as they pass sparkling glances to each other. Then, one after another, their eyes skim Harry’s figure. He feels <em>exposed</em>, like they are looking at the dark little secret he carries around.</p><p>Maybe they are. Maybe, somehow, they can tell that he’s not like the others.</p><p>“You new around here?” A girl in a red sweater wraps a curl around her finger, gum smacking, rather obnoxiously, in her mouth. Minty air hits his face. She let’s go of his loose curl.</p><p>“No, no. I’m a junior.”</p><p>All the girls break into small giggles, twirling their hair and smacking their gum in sync. The thick atmosphere turns bubbly; pink and fragile. A blonde with blue eyeshadow nudges the red sweater girl.</p><p>“You’re cute.” She boops him on the nose, then proceeds to run her hand down his arm.</p><p>If he ever wondered whether or not he was into girls, he shouldn’t have because he most definitely is not. The shivers that should run down his arm from the contact, or the soft blush that should dust his cheeks from the smell of her sweet perfume, aren’t there.</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>All the girls erupt into small giggles.</p><p><em>What the fuck is happening</em>.</p><p>The same blonde with the eyeshadow giggles a little over excessively. She leans over and whispers something in the red sweater girl’s ear.</p><p>“Michelle, don’t be such a spaz.” The blonde looks a little deflated at the comment.</p><p>The dynamic is obvious: red sweater girl is the leader, blondie with the eyeshadow is her side kick, and the rest are red’s little followers.</p><p>“I’m gonna go take a piss.” This situation is too awkward to handle and it’s not like Harry’s getting anything out of it anyways.</p><p>“Wait.” Red stops him, grabbing his arm and squishing it in her chest, “Do you wanna dance?”</p><p>“Gotta go take a piss. Find me later and maybe I’ll be up for it.” With that Harry takes off at a brisk pace to the nearest bathroom. Which happens to be upstairs, first door on the right. He’s sure he could still walk through the house with his eyes closed and navigate it with ease. Once he’s in the bathroom he closes the door, locking it so no one, especially red sweater girl, can get in.</p><p>***</p><p>He spends the next 30 minutes hauled up in the small space.</p><p>He had quickly grabbed another beer before he left the kitchen, so he’s currently on his third or fourth beer of the night. He can’t really keep count as things start to become delayed and fuzzy. Knocking from his right side barely catches his clouded attention.</p><p>“Occupied.”</p><p>That doesn’t stop the outsider from continuing their very insistent knocking. Harry decides it’s about time he leaves anyway, maybe get another beer. He wobbly gets up from the ground and makes his way to do the door. The captain of the football team and red sweater girl stand beside the door with their tongues halfway down each other’s throats. Harry doesn’t know if he should be offended by being replaced so quickly, or grateful he’s not in the position.</p><p>“No longer occupied.”</p><p>They don’t even falter in their kissing at the statement. He looks a little past them down the hallway, seeing that all the doors are currently closed. This is why parties aren’t really his <em>thing</em>. The stench of sex mingles with the air, creating a pretty uncomfortable environment for some people, Harry included. It’s not like he can join the sex train. He’s on a totally different platform; a completely different town where the population is one.</p><p>A door closes behind him and he realizes that the couple decided to move into the bathroom, finally. He makes his way downstairs.</p><p>People are crowded into the living room; some dancing, some sitting on couches, smoking or making out in a corner. Before his eyes can locate Louis, he spots a blonde head barreling towards him.</p><p>“Yo, Harry! What are you doing here?”</p><p>Niall brings him into a quick bro hug, patting him on the back before releasing him.</p><p>“I was invited.”</p><p>“Oh, so when someone else asks you, you’ll come, but not when your best buddy does?” He brings a hand to his chest and deeply exhales, sending a look of mock hurt Harry’s way.</p><p>“Just decided it was time to loosen up, I guess. Junior year and all.”</p><p>“Sure it just wasn’t because I told you I got laid? Sorry to break it to you, buddy, but I think the charm only works if you’re blonde.”</p><p>“Ah, well, sorry to break it to ya, buddy, but I still don’t believe you got laid in the first place.”</p><p>“Damn, Harry, you just keep digging the knife in deeper.”</p><p>Harry shrugs, taking a look around the crowded living room and kitchen. In a dimly lit corner by the couch he sees them.</p><p>Louis and the girl he was with at lunch are practically draped over one another. She plays with her fingers as they dangle over his shoulders. One of Louis’ hands rests lazily on her hip, while the other holds a beer to his lips. She’s about the same height as him, maybe even a bit taller. Their position does not leave much space between them. The familiar sting of jealousy slushes around in his, already, alcohol lined stomach.</p><p>“‘M gonna go get another beer.”</p><p>“Alright, man. Find me later?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>Harry hurries towards the kitchen, knocking shoulders with a couple of people. He’s normally not a ‘shove and run’ kind of guy, but right now the lines between fight and flight are blurred. He’s got one thought on his mind and that is to get rid of them with more alcohol. He doesn’t care if he’s being dramatic. He knows Louis isn’t his and never will be, but that doesn’t stop the hot surge of want and desperation from flooding his system when he sees him with someone else. Maybe if times were different, people were more accepting, he could risk telling him how he feels. But, for now, drink, drink, drink.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <strong>
    <a href="https://youtu.be/YpZgagU50KE">Song- Talking in your sleep, The Romantics </a>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Drunk, drunk, drunk.</em>
</p><p>Harry sits on the couch with the other lazy drunks. The blonde girl from earlier is sitting right beside him, thighs touching. They both watch the scene in front of them with glazed over eyes. Teens grind on each other in the middle of the room, heat radiating off of the group. Louis is still with the girl, and they migrated to the dance floor with most of the people there. They aren’t getting off against each other like everyone else is, but they’re still dancing too close for Harry’s comfort. He tries not to think about it too much. Instead, focusing on the steady rhythm coming from an unidentified area. Across the room he spots red sweater girl and Patrick worming across the room, hand in hand, and giggling. They leave out the front door, seemingly going somewhere more private so they can carry out their ‘activities.’ He can see Miranda(?) follow them with her eyes. She huffs out a big breath and refocuses her gaze to the center of the room.</p><p>“What’s up?” Harry slurs out.</p><p>“Hm?” She blinks lazily, titling a wobbly head in his direction.</p><p>“What’s up?”</p><p>“She’s- was my ride.”</p><p>“Oh. She seems like a bitch.” Harry barely has any brain to mouth filter left.</p><p>“Yeah.” She mutters.</p><p>Harry raises his eyebrows at that.</p><p>He wasn’t expecting her to agree with him. She picks at her pink fingernail polish, brushing the colored flecks off her pants. Awkward silence takes over. Silence means too much time in his own head, too much time in his own head means thinking, and thinking means he needs more to drink. He gets up without saying a word to Melissa(?), making his way back to the “Self Destruction Production.” Aka the fridge full of beer.</p><p>Harry stumbles through the kitchen, holding onto the counter for support. He lost count of how many times he’d taken a trip to the kitchen to retrieve another drink, which was also another number he had lost count of. He turns around, beer in hand, only to have it snatched right out. It leaves his hand slightly damp and cold. He meets eyes with the beer stealer and whimpers like a little puppy, stomping his foot a little.</p><p>“<em>Niallllllll</em>, Duuude, give me back my beer.”</p><p>“Harry, no. I’ve seen you drink, like, almost an entire pack. What is up with you? You wouldn't come to just one party over the summer, and now you're drinking yourself to death. Is something wrong?”</p><p>“Shouldn’t you be drunk?” Harry avoids his question as expertly as his drunk mind will allow him to.</p><p>“Got a high tolerance.” He pauses, “Told ye I had some Irish in me blood.” He pulls the best Irish accent he can, and to be quite frank, it’s pretty spot on. Or, Harry might just be too drunk to tell the difference.</p><p>“Shut up. Give me my beer Nigell, I’m fineeee.” He slaps his arm softly, leaning forward, thinking it’s the best way to distract his friend while he grabs his beer and runs. It does not work.</p><p>“Nope.” He plops the beer back into the fridge and stands guard in front of it.</p><p>“Come oooonn. One more and I’m finished. I pinky promise.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Whyyyyy?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Harry huffs and stomps his foot. He looks like an overgrown child.</p><p>“Harold.” Niall scolds.</p><p>“Neil.”</p><p>“Harry, no.”</p><p>“Ughhhhh, you’re nooooo fun.” He scrunches his face up and shakes his head, deciding to give up. He’s had enough anyway. The thought of alcohol is starting to make his stomach turn.</p><p>***</p><p>He spends the next hour or two sitting in the same spot on the couch daydreaming. Thinking about how nice it was to hold Louis’ hand, even if it was just for a second. It felt way better than it did in his dreams; more real, not as far off and fuzzy.</p><p>It’s a little past 2 am when he realizes he should probably get home. Most people left about an hour ago, leaving a couple stragglers who all seem to be leaving now. He gets up from his spot, vision blurring a bit as the room spins around him. His stomach turns upside down with the movement, he won’t make it much longer without achieving his goal of erasing all the good memories with alcohol induced vomiting. Once he’s outside, the cold air hits his face, bringing him as back to reality as he can get in this state. The sun is completely hiding behind the moon, illuminating about a quarter of it for everyone to see. It doesn’t provide that much light as Harry tries to make his way back to his house. He stumbles and trips over everything that touches, or in some cases, doesn’t touch, his foot.</p><p>He’s about five steps away from his door when he loses it, grabbing the nearest jar shaped object and letting out his unresolved feelings straight into his mom's favorite flower pot. She’s going to kill him. He looks down at his shirt, lightly sprinkled with bits of barf. He can’t wait to get inside, take off his clothes that reek of alcohol and regret, flop onto his bed, and sleep. Being the most unlucky person he knows, the door is locked.</p><p>He has a key, but he left it inside for some extremely unknown reason. He had left the door unlocked when he left, but now he’s not so sure he did. Actually, he’s absolutely positive he locked it because there would be no other explanation for him standing outside of Louis Tomlison’s house for the second time tonight; only after he checked the back door, the windows he could reach, and the front door one more time. He raises his hand to knock, and this time, Louis doesn’t show up immediately. When he does, though, he looks tired. His hair is a slight, fuzzy mess on top of his head, but he still looks pretty. He’s still in his clothes from earlier, and carries a couple empty beer bottles. Those sinfully tight jeans will be the demise of Harry.</p><p>“Harry?” Louis says, voice a bit gruff and scratchy.</p><p>“Hm?” Harry says, gaining back his focus. Louis looks so beautiful up close, he wants to touch, but he knows can't. </p><p>“What are you doing outside of my house at 3 am?”</p><p>“Oh! Right. I’m locked out of my house.” He thumbs in the direction of his house like Louis did with the alcohol earlier. Though, he’s sure Louis knows where he lives.</p><p>“Oh?” Louis tries to rub the sleep out of his eyes, the bottles clanging against each other at the motion. It makes him look like a disgruntled little kitten. Harry kind of wants to reach out and pet him, but that would be humiliating for both of them.</p><p>“Yeah. I guess I locked the door by accident, or something. My moms not going to be home until noon. Night shift and all.” He shrugs and tries to look anywhere but Louis’ eyes.</p><p>“You can crash here, if you want?”</p><p>“Really? I can sleep on the couch, or whatever, I don’t want to bother you or-”</p><p>“You really want to sleep on the couch? The vomit, and god knows what else, stained couch?” Louis raises his eyebrows at him, crossing his arms and sticking one of his legs out. A small smirk makes an appearance on his lips. Harry swears that Louis is brighter than any phase of the moon.</p><p>“Now that you mention it, not so much.”</p><p>“I still have the pullout couch you can use. Come on.” Louis blinks at him once, then turns around and heads up the stairs. Harry follows close behind. They make it to the door on the left at the end of the hall. Harry’s heart stops beating and he sobers up completely. He hadn’t really thought much of this through. He’s going to see Louis’ room. He’s going to <em>sleep</em> in Louis’ room. Granted, in totally different beds.</p><p>“Do you need, like, a change of clothes or anything?” Louis says, breaking him out of his trance. He’s already entered the room without realizing. It only looks slightly different. All the furniture is in the same place, minus the addition of a new dresser. The bed is on the right side of the room, with a nightstand on either side and a window above the left one.</p><p>When they were kids, they used to use their windows to communicate, since they faced each other. But now, Louis’ curtains are always closed.</p><p>There are new posters, mostly of bands. He also has an entire bookshelf consisting of mostly CDs, with the exception of a few books. It holds all the nick nacks and messiness of an average teenage boy. It feels weird to be in his room after all this time with it having so little change, but so much at the same time.</p><p>Harry looks down at his stained shirt, then back up to Louis. “If you don’t mind.”</p><p>“It’s cool. I know I wouldn’t wanna sleep in a shirt with, I’m guessing, puke, on it.”</p><p>“Yep, it’s puke. My moms gonna kill me when she sees where I hurled.”</p><p>“In her favorite flower pot?” Louis grimaces, scrunching his nose in the cutest way. Harry has to resist cooing at him. This is why he was, somewhat, content with just seeing Louis, watching him go about his day. He knew that if they ever interacted, he would have to try hard to not verbally aw at everything he does.</p><p>“In her favorite flower pot.” Harry nods along with the other boy. He’s not sure how Louis managed to remember his mom's flower pot obsession, but it’s surprisingly pleasant.</p><p>They stay silent as Louis rummages through his drawers for a sleeping shirt and pants. He sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and knits his eyebrows. The moonlight breaks through his sheer curtains, adding a slight blue tint to the warmly lit room. Harry rubs his sweaty palms on his jeans, rocking back and forth on his heels, taking in the room for the third time.</p><p>“Here.” Louis hands him the clothes and pats them gently once they are in Harry’s hands, “Hope they fit, Mr. Giraffe legs.”</p><p>“Heyyy, I’ll let you know that these giraffe legs aren’t all that bad.”</p><p>“What? Did they attract a swarm of girls?” Louis scoffs as he says it, going through the drawers in search for his own pajamas to wear.</p><p>“Yeah, actually, a big group of girls came up asking to dance, and I’m sure my giraffe legs were all to thank.” Harry says, finishing off with a smug face. He doesn’t really know why he’s saying it in the first place, he doesn’t care if girls like him or not, but it seems to trigger something. Louis swallows hard, looking down at his feet and bringing his hand to his flushed neck.</p><p>“Good for you Harry, uh, told ya they would.” He pauses, pointing to the door, “I’m gonna go get some water. You can change, or whatever.” He rushes out of the room, leaving the door ajar. Harry closes it softly and deeply inhales, exhaling out of his mouth with lots of force.</p><p>Everything is so <em>amplified</em> now that they’re alone, now that Harry isn’t just watching from afar. It’s overwhelming, to say the least.</p><p>He changes quickly, not sure how long Louis’ going to take to get water. The pants are a little short, exposing a bit of his ankles, but other than that they fit. The shirt fits as well, albeit a little tight around his shoulders. Harry takes the opportunity of being alone to explore Louis’ room, going straight for the CD collection. As he scans through the different CDs, a few catch his eye. <em>Prince, Madonna, Janet Jackson-</em></p><p>“I brought you a cup.” Louis’ voice enters the space, the sound of the door closing overlapping. Harry immediately averts his eyes to a different record, as if Louis could see exactly which album he’s looking at.</p><p>“Nice collection. Billy Idol, The Police, The Rolling Stones. You’ve got good taste.”</p><p>“Thanks, but, uh, most of those are my sisters CDs. You were probably wondering why I have, like, <em>Janet Jackson</em>, and stuff. They’re mostly my sisters, so. I’m not, like, into that stuff.” Louis says, scoffing after each sentence. The silence that follows is tangible; if only one of them had the courage to mold it into something recognizable. Harry averts his eyes from the records, to Louis’ face. The warm glow of the room casting a brilliant light across his cheekbones. He changed into his pj’s when he was gone; an old band shirt and some plaid pajama pants.</p><p>“This is weird.” Louis is the first to break the silence. Harry’s gaze neglects the bookshelf, finding a new home in Louis’ eyes.</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“It’s like old times. You know, like, when we were kids.” He’s moving closer ever so slowly. Harry’s heart starts erratically beating, so loud he’s afraid Louis can hear it. The space between them gets smaller and smaller until Louis is directly in front of him. He has to look up ever so slightly, and Harry finds it incredibly endearing. He can feel his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he takes a hard swallow and gulp of breath.</p><p>“Yeah, I guess it’s a bit weird.”</p><p>“Especially since you’re taller than me now. Not. Fair.”</p><p>“I thought you were content with your height because ‘at least you know how to use your legs.’”</p><p>“Oh, shut up.” Louis shoves a cup of water to Harry’s chest, holding it there until he secures his big paws around it. He sets his cup on his nightstand, turning off one of the lamps. Harry subconsciously goes to the closet to get blankets, setting them down beside the pull out. He disassembles the couch, to then reassemble it into a bed, placing the blankets one by one until he’s left with two to use for cover. When he turns around he’s instantly met with blue, and it feels like he’s drowning.</p><p>Louis’ sat under his covers, resting on one elbow, mouth slightly parted and spurting out tiny, warm breaths. Harry’s whole body stills.</p><p>One moment he's on fire and the next he's turned to ice as Louis breaks out of his spell, twisting to turn off the other lamp, and slamming his body into the pillow as fast as he can.</p><p>“Night, Harry.” Louis speaks. It’s quiet and a bit muffled from the covers.</p><p>“Night, Lou.”</p><p>Harry tucks himself under the blankets, listening to the heavy breaths of Louis on the other side of the room. He doesn’t fall asleep until he hears the soft snoring of the small boy.</p><p>That night he dreams of moonlit rooms and a softly snoring boy wrapped around him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hii, again!! I hope you liked this chapter. I put a lot of time into it trying to make it good for you guys. I really appreciate you reading it and feel free to leave comments of your reactions or feedback. I love love love seeing it!! Until next chapter xx :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Thank god for Thanksgiving!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hii!! Chapter three is finally here AHHH!!</p><p>I'm so sorry this chapter took me so long to write and get out :( I've had school, it's been A LOT, and I haven't had a lot of motivation to write. </p><p>This is probably my favorite chapter so far and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!! </p><p>enjoy!! xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months; all that include time with Louis.</p><p>After the night of the party, they didn’t see a logical reason to go back to being strangers. Louis would talk to him at his locker before class or invite him over to study (he was having an incredibly difficult time in english and Harry, coincidentally having already read the book, was happy to help). Sometimes they would completely neglect studying and talk about whatever was on their minds, taking turns picking a random CD to play for background. It’s almost like they slipped back into their groove from when they were younger.</p><p>He can’t help but keep the night, and morning after, tucked away in a special chest, hidden in the deep parts of his mind. The way Louis looked all sleep rumpled and soft; warmth radiating off his sluggish limbs as he poured himself a bowl of cereal, will be forever captured as a small snapshot, easily accessible when Harry needs a pick-me-up. It’s been slightly draining, keeping his feelings in check, but it’s worth it to see Louis smile; a smile that he causes.</p><p>“How in the hell did you read this?<em> For. Enjoyment.</em> I’m starting to think I'm befriending a mental case. Oh my god, you’re not going to force me to read, like, gone with the wind and watch me slowly die, rotting from-”</p><p>“Louis! Shut up!” Harry says, exasperated and swatting at Louis’ shoulder with his copy of <em>Moby Dick</em>, “One, I’m not a mental case, I just enjoy classic literature. And two, you shouldn’t give me ideas that sound so tempting.”</p><p>They are sprawled out on Harry’s bed, studying, <em>or</em>, trying to. Louis lays on his belly, ankles crossed at the top of the bed. Harry sits on his feet beside him, the book situated lazily in between his thighs. This is how they have ended up spending most of their Wednesday, sometimes Thursday, nights for the past couple weeks. All it took was one complaint from Louis about having trouble in English, and Harry jumped at the opportunity to help him. It just so happened that Harry had already read<em> Moby Dick.</em></p><p>There was a time in his life in which he would drown his sorrows with woeful tales and classic literature; telling himself that he knew no such overwhelming sadness, and therefore he shouldn’t be this upset over a silly crush. But Louis didn’t need to know those small details.</p><p>“How many excruciatingly boring books have you read, Harry?” Louis peers up at him, going through the motions of blinking.</p><p>Harry makes his way to his closet, grabbing a ratted cardboard box overflowing with his books. He waddles his way back to the bed, nearly tripping over his desk chair. A laugh rips through Louis’ throat, face nudged between two pages. Harry sets down the box with a plop, the bed caving to support its weight.</p><p>“No…” Louis stares, eyes big, round, and blue.<em> So blue</em> it hurts.</p><p>“Not all of these are ‘excruciatingly boring.’ Just, like, most of them?”</p><p>A breathy giggle comes from Louis. Harry tries to suppress his laughter, but fails miserably in the end.</p><p>“Okay, let’s see what kind of books Mr. boring has.” Louis says, carefully moving each cardboard flap to reveal the stacks of books within.</p><p>“I thought I was Mr. Giraffe legs?”</p><p>“You can be both.”</p><p>Louis haphazardly examines each title, setting them down on the bed when he’s done. He’s about halfway through the entire box when he stops and furrows his brows.</p><p>“What?” Harry asks, his giggles slowing to a stop as Louis examines the book.</p><p>“Oh, uh…”</p><p>Harry is quick to angle his body so he is able to see what is making Louis so flustered.</p><p>“Oh! Uh, I think that’s my moms,<em> uh,</em> from, like, her book club, or something.” Harry grabs<em> The Picture of Dorian Gray</em> from Louis’ hands, placing it back in the box. Louis looks at him and something flashes in his eyes. <em>Fear</em>? <em>Disgust,</em> maybe?</p><p>“Your mom still goes to the book club?”</p><p>Harry’s beyond grateful for the topic change, “Yeah, she, uh, she never stopped going. I mean I wouldn’t expect her to just stop going because one of the other member’s sons decided to stop being friends with hers.”</p><p>Louis’ face drops at the harshness in Harry’s voice. The entire mood has changed. It’s hard to breathe, the things they want to say floating around the room and clogging all the air molecules.</p><p>“I think I should get home. Dinner is probably almost ready, so.” Louis says, voice barely breaking through the thickness of the atmosphere. He swings his leg off the bed, bouncing once before completely standing up and brushing invisible dirt off his pants.</p><p>“Yeah, I need to, like, catch up on some homework.”</p><p>“Catch ya tomorrow, then?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Harry’s voice is barely above a whisper. He looks at his hands and plays with his fingers, not even sparing a glance at the door when he hears it click shut. He shifts his eyes to the book laying neatly in the box, running his fingers lightly over the cover.</p><p>Huffing out a sigh, he leans back on his bed with his legs dangling over the sides. He brings the heels of his hands to his eyes, pushing ever so slightly to cause pressure. The box still sits on his bed, not as heavy as before; less caving in of the mattress. There are books thrown around in a Louis sized circle. He sighs and collects the books, placing them back in the box and back in the closet where they belong.</p><p>***</p><p>“I didn’t know you and Lou were friends again?” Anne says, drying off a spoon from the sink.</p><p>“Oh, yeah.” A smile creeps over Harry’s face at the realization. He never really thought anyone noticed, or rather he didn’t really know anyone else existed when he’s with Louis, so how would they know they’re together? “He needed help with English, so yeah, I guess we are friends again.”</p><p>“Well that’s great Harry. You guys were such good pals when you were little. I swear you two were inseparable.” She swings a dish towel over her shoulder, turning around and placing her palms flat on the counter top. Her eyes sparkle with glee and a bit of mischief, “Say, I’ve been meaning to ask you about this for a while now, and seeing as you and Lou are friends I’m sure you won’t have a problem with it.”</p><p>Harry shifts his gaze from his half eaten eggs to his mother’s face. His fork hangs from his mouth as he hums a little noise as if to say “go on.”</p><p>“As you know, Deb and I attend the same book club and a few days ago when we were reading-“</p><p>“Mom.” Harry gives Anne an encouraging look, pushing her along to the point.</p><p>She blinks innocently at Harry, tapping a nail against the ceramic countertop, “She invited us over for thanksgiving. Said it would be nice to see you properly again.”</p><p>“Sure. I guess that would be nice.” He says, stabbing his fork into his eggs, the yellow yolk spilling out of the tiny holes it created.</p><p>“Oh I’m so glad!” She makes a happy noise, gripping the dish towel on her shoulder and drying off a plate. Harry plays with his food the rest of breakfast, mentally counting down the days.</p><p>***</p><p>Song- Good Thing, Fine Young Cannibals</p><p>Thanksgiving was only a week away when Anne had asked if Harry was alright with having it at the Tomlinsons, so of course the rest of the week went by in a blur. Of course the universe had to speed up the days in spite of Harry’s wishes for them to go slow. He really needed to have a lecture with the universe.</p><p>The lunch dismissal bell rings, sending the people around Harry into a food crazed frenzy. He honestly can’t blame them, the food at the school is pretty decent most of the time.</p><p>He tries to search for a certain blonde boy but can’t seem to find him at their usual table; that is until he hears a voice calling his name from behind him.</p><p>“Harry, come over here man!” Niall’s loud voice booms from the table in the far corner of the room. He’s sitting next to the blonde girl from the party (Michelle!).</p><p>Harry weaves through the students, plopping down across from Niall, and coincidentally directly beside Louis. He tries not to think too much about the distance between their thighs, the space between their elbows resting on the table. Instead he focuses on Niall and his new girlfriend?</p><p>“When did this happen?” Harry asks, eyes darting back and forth from their intertwined hands to his food. He takes one of Niall's grapes and pops in his mouth, raising his eyebrows at him.</p><p>“A couple weeks ago.” Michelle says, looking at Niall with fluttering eyes. Harry furrows his brows, grimacing at Niall.</p><p>“Ah-ha! That’s why you’ve been cancelling on me for the past couple weeks. Duude, not cool. I cancel on you a couple times over the summer and you get pissed, but then you go and do the same thing. Wow, Niall, I'm thoroughly hurt.” Harry puts a fist to his chest, tapping it twice and slumping back in his chair</p><p>“Oh young Harold-”</p><p>“We’re basically the same age Neil.”</p><p>“-you have so much to learn about being a boyfriend. But, you’re in luck because I just so happen to be the best teacher around.” Niall’s face sets on a smug smile, receiving a boop on the nose from Michelle.</p><p>“Oh yeah I’m sure you are.” Harry deadpans, smashing his fork into the blob of meat they received for lunch; today was one of the off days in which the food was a big chunk of mystery meat. Niall looks like he’s about to say something when someone from behind Harry speaks.</p><p>“You’re sitting in my seat, buddy.” Harry can feel Patricks breath on his neck, hot and full of malice. A big hand rests on his shoulder, squeezing it a bit and sending shivers down his spine; not the good kind, more of the run for your life kind. He doesn’t know why he seems so hostile over a seat.</p><p>“Oh, uh, sorry dude.” Harry gets his legs to move from under him when he feels a comforting hand wrap around his forearm.</p><p>“Patrick, dude it’s not that big of a deal, just sit somewhere else for today. There’s literally a seat right there.” Louis points in the direction of an empty chair two seats diagonal to himself, “Harry sit down, it’s fine.”</p><p>Goosebumps prickle from the hearth of Louis’ fingers, creeping up his arm and exploding in his chest. He sits down with a loud rattle from his chair. Patrick’s wrath can be felt for a second longer before he’s gone and angrily sitting down in the place Louis indicated.</p><p>Harry looks down at his forearm, hyper aware of Louis’ hand still grasping onto it. He quickly retracts it and wipes his palm on the front of his pants. His fingers dance across his thighs, making the muscles jump underneath the tight fabric of his jeans. Harry has to tear his eyes away so he won’t be caught staring; his cheeks tinted a slight red.</p><p>“Sorry about him.”</p><p>“It’s fine.” Harry shrugs his shoulders, avoiding Louis’ eyes and occupying himself with stabbing little holes in his paper tray.</p><p>“So, uh, are you ready for thanksgiving?” Harry wasn’t sure if Louis knew about that, he was actually prepared for it to be a big thanksgiving surprise; not much of a <em>great</em> surprise, but…</p><p>“Yeah, my mom asked me, like, last week about it. I’m surprised she didn’t just spring it on me last minute or something like that.”</p><p>“You kind of have to be prepared to come to our house when all of the girls are present. It’s like some kind of mad house.” Louis says, scoffing a bit as if recalling some traumatizing memories. Harry laughs a bit with him, though he doesn’t know about this so-called ‘madhouse’ because every time he’s been to Louis’, they instantly go to his room, staying locked up there until it’s time for Harry to leave. He has heard faint crying and pouting coming from somewhere in the house, but every time it happens, Louis puts on a song to drown it out.</p><p>He can feel eyes on him, but not the ones he wants. Patrick’s wrath is slowly creeping back into his personal bubble, piercing it in sensitive places.</p><p>
  <em>What is up with him?</em>
</p><p>The universe works in Harry’s favor (finally) as the lunch bell rings, sending everyone back to class.</p><p>“See ya tonight, Harry.”</p><p>“See ya, Lou.” With that he stands up, dumping his tray in the trash. He secretly wishes he could just hide in the trash bin as well, to avoid all his problems.</p><p>***</p><p>Song- She Drives Me Crazy, Fine Young Cannibals</p><p>“Honey! Are you almost ready?” Anne says, her voice echoing through the house. Harry is currently combing through his curls for the third time. There is a small unruly strand that won’t cooperate with him. Everytime he brushes it down and moves away from his mirror, it springs back up in a matter of minutes.</p><p>“Gaahhhh!!” Harry screams through gritted teeth, shaking out his hair.</p><p>“I’m gonna take that as a no.”</p><p>“Just a minute!”</p><p>Harry assesses his appearance; a purple sweater with an undershirt, a pair of khakis, and his white (tan) trainers. Other than his hair, he is actually pretty confident in how he looks.</p><p>He’s grown a bit more in the past few months, much to Louis’ constant jealousy and dismay. Harry thinks it’s entirely too cute when he gets fussy; his nose all scrunched and cheeks painted a bit red. He always seems to get lost in his own head, dreaming of other scenarios in which Louis’ cheeks would flush, which seems to make Louis more upset.</p><p>Harry grabs the comb once more, positioning it in front of the curl. He runs it through slowly, hoping that will tame it. Once he reaches the end of the strand he says a little prayer, placing the comb on the countertop. It springs back up as soon as he looks in the mirror.</p><p>“Fuck it. Coming, mom!”</p><p>“Well don’t you look cute!” Harry has barely made it down the stairs when Anne is collecting Harry’s face in her hands, pressing a kiss to his forehead and pinching his cheeks.</p><p>“Mom!” Harry whines, struggling to get out of her death grip.</p><p>“Okay, alright.” Anne gives him a warm smile, patting his shoulder and striding towards the door; her heels click beneath her feet.</p><p>***</p><p>The trip to the Tomlinson residence took less than thirty seconds. They are warmly greeted by Deb, who hugs Harry a little longer than she does Anne.</p><p>“You’ve gotten so big! I was wondering when Louis would let me see you again.” Her eyes are soft, taking in Harry’s appearance properly for the first time in many years. She turns around to face Louis, giving him a harsher look, “I was actually quite surprised when Louis mentioned having you over for thanksgiving, I thought he wanted to keep you all to himself or something. Keep you away from the craziness that is our household.” She adds that as if it’s a last thought, as if it’s common knowledge that it was Louis who suggested to have them over.</p><p>It definitely <em>was not,</em> at least not to Harry.</p><p>He quickly darts his eyes over to Louis, who currently looks like a deer caught in headlights. Harry lets out a little laugh, trying to ease the tension a bit.</p><p>“Lou warned me about the madhouse earlier today. Not really sure what to expect.”</p><p>“It’s calm now, but oh boy when you those girls see you they will have a field day, especially with your curls. Lottie’s a bit more reserved but the twins are boy crazy. Age five, I’m telling ya!” She sends a little wink Harry’s way before turning around and heading towards the kitchen, Anne following suit.</p><p>“I swear my mom likes you more than me, even if we haven’t been friends for, like, seven years.” Louis speaks up for the first time. He’s leaning against the staircase railing, one foot propped against it and the other planted firmly on the floor, arms crossed. His bangs swoop to the side across his forehead, curling ever so slightly at the ends. Harry has to keep his hands glued firmly behind his back to stop himself from reaching out and tucking it behind his ear.</p><p>“What can I say, all the ladies love me.”</p><p>“You’re such a dweeb.”</p><p>“Says you.”</p><p>“Watch it. I invited you, I still have time to take it back.”</p><p>“Ehh, I don’t think you really do.”</p><p>“And why’s that?” Harry doesn’t answer the question, but he does quickly take off towards the sound of high pitched giggling. When he enters the room, the first thing he sees is three identical pairs of big blue eyes staring at him. It takes approximately two seconds before two little arms are suctioned to each of his legs, tiny faces squished against his thighs.</p><p>“Hi there.” Harry says with a big smile, dimples popping and eyes gleaming, “What are your names?”</p><p>“Phoebe!”</p><p>“Daisy!”</p><p>“Well hello there, Phoebe,” He pats one of them on the head, “and Daisy.” He pats the other and they both let out a deafening squeal, clutching tighter to Harry’s legs.</p><p>“Girls.” They look up to the voice above them, but quickly hide their faces against his thighs. Harry looks over his shoulder to see Deb with her arms crossed, giving the girls a very stern look.</p><p>“It’s alright, I kind of brought this upon myself.” He shrugs, catching Louis’ face from behind his mother. He looks, weirdly… fond? Harry shakes his head, returning his attention to the little creatures suctioned to his legs.</p><p>“Foods ready.” Deb says, before disappearing into the dining room. The girls don’t move an inch at their mother’s words, still death gripping Harry.</p><p>“If you let me go so we can eat, I’ll let you sit beside me.” He bends down and whispers to the girls, regretting the decision when he gets loud, high pitched screaming directed right into his ears. They let go and race to the dining room, the little pitter patters of their feet following them as they run.</p><p>“Wow.” Louis says, dragging out the o as he leans against the door frame.</p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p>“You did not think that through-”</p><p>“Shut up.” Harry moves away from him so fast he thinks could’ve left dust flying around behind him.</p><p>***</p><p>Harry’s dinner is spent sitting in between two demons that are in adorable disguises, while sparing small glances towards Louis. More often than not, Louis stares back or is already looking at him. They share private smiles and giggles that Harry can’t interpret, but he can’t complain either; he flashes his dimples and continues eating.</p><p>“Harry is my prince!”</p><p>“No he’s mine!” The girls are currently fighting over who’s “prince” Harry is. They keep tugging at his curls, grabbing at his face with their chubby hands, and screaming in his ears. Harry’s hair is a mess; so much for spending about thirty minutes trying to keep that strand tamed.</p><p>Lottie hasn’t said much to Harry, only exchanging a few words over dinner, most sentences including the words <em>“pass me the</em>…” and whatever item of food she wanted at that moment. As the girls continue to scream, she sits in the corner with a walkman resting on her lap, headphones covering her ears. He envies her ability to block out the squeals,<em> very</em> tempted to ask if he can borrow the device.</p><p>“Can I borrow the prince for a moment?” Louis says, raising his brows and flipping his palms up. He tilts his head slightly to the left, giving the girls the softest puppy dog eyes he can muster. Harry’s heart nearly shoots out of his ass.</p><p>
  <em>Prince. Puppy dog eyes. Pretty. Pretty. Pretty. </em>
</p><p>The girls stop in their action to rip Harry’s head off his shoulders.</p><p>“No!” They both scream at the same time, surprising Louis and Harry, making them jump slightly.</p><p>“I’ll give you the leftover pudding if you hand over the prince.” The girl’s faces light up at that, apparently pudding is more important than Harry.</p><p>Those thoughts are quickly wiped away as Louis grabs his forearm. He drags him off the couch, leading him out of the living room, into the front hallway. His hand has now slipped down his forearm, to rest tightly on his wrist. It’s not tight as in pain, but tight as in protective, secure, <em>safe</em>. His pulse jumps, blood throbbing through his arteries as his heart goes into overdrive.</p><p>“Looks like I’m not much of a prince anymore.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“You’re the knight in shining armor now. Saved me from the cute little devils.”</p><p>Louis tenses, gripping Harry’s wrist a little tighter. He looks down at his hand, realizing where it’s at, and drops it to his side. Harry can spot red splotches creeping up Louis’ neck, but he tries not to read too much into it.</p><p>“Yeah, guess so.”</p><p>They stand there in awkward silence. Neither of them know what went wrong, what’s happening, or what to say next.</p><p>“It’s a little stuffy in here.” Is all Harry can think to say.</p><p>“Outside?” Louis huffs out a giant breath, one that he seems to have been holding in for decades. Harry nods his approval and exposes himself to the brisk, outside air. He turns around to see Louis putting on a coat with fluffy lining, <em>his</em> coat. <em>Harry’s</em> coat. He shivers, not because of the breeze, but because of the way it blankets Louis’ entire upper body; how the sleeves cover most of his hands, only exposing the tips of his fingers.</p><p>“That’s mine.”<em> Did he just say that out loud?</em> Louis looks at him with alarm; it almost seems like a siren goes off in his head. He moves to shrug out of it, but Harry stops him, resting his hands on his shoulders and pulling the sleeves back over them.</p><p>“No, keep it on. Looks good on you.” He mumbles the last bit, looking down at the ground while he paws at it with his foot.</p><p>A sharp intake of breath can be heard from in front of him, but he doesn’t dare look up, doesn’t dare give himself hope. He knows if he does, he will never look back, he will never be able to stop himself from doing all the soft things he wants to do to the boy.</p><p>“Wanna go for a ride?”</p><p>“Car?”</p><p>“No, bike.” Louis confirms, folding the fabric in between his palms, trying to make a fist. He looks unfairly beautiful at the moment; soft, small, and determined, with red ghosting over the tip of his nose.</p><p>“Where to, old chap?” Harry asks, curiosity taking over.</p><p>Louis looks at him with a smile that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle. Harry’s lungs scream for air, as he doesn’t think he’s been breathing for the past few seconds.</p><p>“Go get your bike and meet me in the driveway in five.”</p><p>***</p><p>Song- Every Breath You Take, The Police</p><p>Harry finds Louis eagerly bouncing on the balls of his feet, legs hanging off either side of the bike. Unlike Harry, his feet don’t touch the ground all the way, they slightly dangle near the ground when he sits down on the seat.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>Louis looks at Harry, a bit startled by his voice.</p><p>“For what?”</p><p>“For getting me out of there. They are adorable, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t really want to be their new boy toy.” Harry shakes his head, scalp and neck a bit sore from the constant tugging back and forth. Louis opens and closes his mouth like a fish, as if stopping himself from saying something.</p><p>“Yeah.” A few seconds of silence pass, not as comfortable as before. These uncomfortable silences have been happening more frequently lately. One of them will say something, usually Harry, to which Louis will get all quiet, causing tension to glaze over the atmosphere, “Race ya!”</p><p>“Hey not fair! I don’t even know where we’re going!” Harry shouts at him, already a couple feet ahead of him and gaining.</p><p>“Wherever the night takes us, Harold!”</p><p>His heart beats in his chest, soft and strong, as he catches up to Louis. The wind whips his hair around, hitting him in the face when he turns to look at the other boy. The tip of his nose and cheeks are flushed pink, sending a rush through Harry’s entire body; he picks up his speed, passing Louis with a giggle on his lips.</p><p>The lights in the houses they pass are dim, usually concentrated in what looks to be their living rooms or kitchens. Shreds of sunlight pierce through the darkness in their last attempt to shine on the world. They ride with no particular destination in mind until it’s decidedly nighttime. It feels like they’ve built their own little bubble with giggles, random statements, and soft smiles. Louis gives him small pieces of his mind, which Harry gladly receives, afraid to ask for much more.</p><p>At the last moment, Harry takes a sharp right, straight onto the school gates. He stops abruptly when he reaches the brick wall next to the entrance of the football field.</p><p>“So not cool!” Louis dismounts from his bike, making his way towards Harry and giving him a small shove, “That sharp turn almost killed me!”</p><p>“Take a chill pill, Lou, you’re fine.” Harry says, trying to mask the shakiness of his voice due to the electric pulse that’s currently racing through his nerves.</p><p>“Harold. I. Almost. Died.” He punctuates each word with a small punch to Harry’s chest. On the last punch, he grabs Louis’ small hand in his, holding it to his chest. The blue in Louis’ eyes is fierce; cloudy with a chance of lightning. Harry doesn’t know what compels him to do it, maybe the fact that he’s scared of what tonight has meant with all the soft glances and words, but he takes off at a full sprint towards the football field. He doesn’t even have to look back to know that Louis is hot on his trail.</p><p>He reaches the point of centerfield when he feels a hand ghost across his back.</p><p>“You little shit! Get back here!”</p><p>The light touch of Louis’ fingers makes Harry falter in his running, giving him the perfect opportunity to wrap himself around Harry from behind, bringing them both toppling to the ground. They roll in different directions, landing on the cold grass next to each other, splayed out on their backs with their palms facing the sky. It only takes a second for them to catch their breaths before they’re both breaking out in loud cackles, their bodies shaking as they grab at their stomachs.</p><p>“You are so evil.” Harry says looking up at the stars, chest heaving. He can hear the big gulps of breath Louis takes beside him, “Lou, are you okay?”</p><p>“Better than okay.” When Harry turns to look at Louis, he’s already looking back, head laying on the grass. His pupils are slightly blown from the adrenaline rush, chest rising and falling visibly under the big coat. The flush he had earlier is even more noticeable as it coats the creamy skin of his neck, damp from sweat, his hair ruffled and messy; he almost resembles a pigeon. His lips look so <em>pink</em>, so <em>kissable</em>.</p><p>Harry’s not thinking, his heart is beating too fast and his lungs aren’t taking in enough oxygen. His head is too cloudy to translate his own thoughts before they turn into words.<em> Actions.</em></p><p>He lunges forward, taking the thing he wants most.</p><p>He kisses Louis.</p><p>For a few seconds all that he feels is Louis’ soft lips against his, unresponsive, but warm and pliant. He squeezes his eyes shut as tight as he can.</p><p>Then he feels cold. Just cold.</p><p>He doesn’t open his eyes, afraid that if he does, Louis will be gone, or worse, staring at him like he deserves to rot in hell.</p><p>Harry remains silent, screaming at himself in his own head; saying “<em>How could you be so stupid? He hates you now, look what you did</em>!”</p><p>“Harry...” The voice is small, but strong, breaking him from his toxic thoughts. He wasn't expecting Louis to be there anymore, much less talk to him. He braces himself for the worst; slurs, maybe a few punches to the jaw...</p><p>Harry slowly flutters open his eyes.</p><p>Louis is sat up, staring down at him with shining lips. His face is morphed into an expression that Harry can’t quite disassemble; his eyes are wide, mouth parted a tiny bit as shuttered breaths pass through.</p><p>Harry feels it before he sees it happening.</p><p>Louis’ hands quickly cup his face, pressing their lips together, Harry inhaling hard through his nose as they reconnect.</p><p>It’s desperate and a bit messy, both of them breathing hot air through their noses. Harry has never been granted the things he’s wanted, and now that he has, he knows he was right about never looking back, about not being able to stop himself from taking what he wants.</p><p>Harry’s head is back to the cloudy space, high on Louis’ lips sucking gently against his. His nerves spark and as he shifts to strandle Louis’ thighs. A small noise escapes his lips after a futile attempt of restraining it. Louis’ hands move off his face to squeeze his hips, earning another whimper from deep in Harry’s throat.</p><p>“Louis I-” Harry says when they separate for a breath. Both of their chests are rising and falling at a rapid pace. Harry searches Louis’ face for any form of regret or disgust, but all he sees are his puffy lips and glazed eyes, more blue than he’s ever seen them, adoration and amazement breaking through the floodgates. The bubble around them strengthens and it’s like nobody can bother them, nobody can touch them. Harry ducks down, pressing a searing kiss to the corner of Louis’ mouth just because he can.</p><p>“Harry…” Louis says, caressing his jaw with his hand,<em> so</em> delicately, Harry involuntarily leaning into it, “You don’t know how long…” He trails off, burying his face in Harry’s neck, leaving a trail of barely there kisses from his shoulder all the way to his jaw, nudging him with his nose and breathing him in. His hands find their way to Louis’ hair, carding through the strands at the nape of his neck.</p><p>“I do, Louis, I- I do.” Harry rushes out, shuddering and nodding his head frantically. Louis laughs into Harry’s skin, making him shiver noticeably.</p><p>For other people, love is easy to find, accessible to them at all times, but for Harry, love has always been something he’s considered a luxury, something unattainable for someone like him. All he’s been able to do is dream, hoping one day that it won’t be so hard to reach.</p><p>“<em>Pinch me</em>.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Lou, pinch me right now.”</p><p>Instead of pinching him, Louis leans in kissing him soft and slow. When he bites down on his bottom lip, Harry’s breath stutters and his hips jut forward without his permission. Louis bites down a bit harder as he takes a sharp inhale through his nose, a throaty hum being pushed into Harry’s mouth as he deepens the kiss. The noise alone makes Harry mewl against Louis' lips, reflexively rolling his hips every so often.</p><p>“Shit.” Louis hisses against Harry’s collarbone. He sucks at the skin, alternating between nibbling and licking. Harry makes responsive whines and whimpers above him, not even trying to stop them from bubbling in his throat now. Louis lifts his head from Harry’s neck, resting his forehead against his.</p><p>They stare at each other, matching smiles on their glowing faces.</p><p>“Stay at mine?” Louis whispers, a hot gush of air blowing past his ear. Harry nods enthusiastically, pecking Louis’ lips.</p><p>“<em>Race ya</em>.” Harry whispers, biting down on his lip before slipping out of Louis’ grip and starting off at a full sprint towards his bike.</p><p>***</p><p>They re-entered the house happier than they left it about an hour prior.</p><p>The ride home was peaceful and delicate, but so, so full. Harry’s heart nearly exploded each time he looked over at Louis to see him staring back, a warm smile present on his lips. The few and far between street lights danced in small, concentrated circles, illuminating their already beaming faces as they passed through them.</p><p>“Lou?” Deb says, voice ringing from somewhere in the house. Louis flashes Harry a tight lipped smile, squeezing his hand before dropping it and taking the five necessary steps to get inside the living room.</p><p>“Sorry, we went out on our bikes.” Louis says, scratching the back of his neck, tugging at a small strand of hair near the bottom. Harry observes him, tilting his head as they make eye contact. A small curl falls into his face, so he scrunches his mouth to the side, puffing air out, and blowing it back into place. Louis blinks lazily at him, fond evident in the motion.</p><p>“Ready to head home?” Anne asks, lifting herself from the couch, trying her best not to wake the twins beside her.</p><p>“Could I stay here?” He asks, shifting his gaze to Deb's neutral face, “If you don’t mind?”</p><p>“No, not at all, sweetie.” Deb reassures, standing up to plant both hands on Harry’s shoulders. They’re small and feminine, much like Louis’, squeezing a bit before letting go. She looks back to Anne, nodding her head and leading the way to the door.</p><p>Deb returns only a minute later, making a beeline for the tv to switch it off. She taps the twins, interrupting their sleep. They make a synchronized, unintelligible grumble, kicking out their legs. Deb whispers something that can’t quite be made out from the distance they’re standing. The girls rise off the couch, eyes lidded and limbs groggy from sleep. They slump across the floor, Deb’s hands on either of their backs, guiding them up the stairs and into their room.</p><p>Harry feels a delicate hand slide into his, startling a bit before relaxing into it. The warmth of Louis’ body engulfs his back as he presses against him, laying his head on Harry’s shoulder. Harry huffs out a breath as if he’s been kicked in the stomach, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as goosebumps erupt all over his body.</p><p>“Bed?” Louis mumbles in Harry’s skin, sparking another wave of goosebumps down his neck. He hums his response, already dazed and effected by the small contact. They trudge up the stairs, hand in hand, Harry trailing dreamily behind him. His mind is floating around in bliss, happiness flooding from every pore of his being. When the door clicks behind him he’s brought back to reality, a small hand caresses his jaw. He shifts his gaze somewhat down before leaning forward and pressing his lips to Louis’.</p><p>Harry thinks back to a couple months prior, when Louis and him first bumped into each other in the hallway, how he thought holding his hand for a mere 5 seconds made him the happiest man alive.</p><p>
  <em> Boy was he wrong.</em>
</p><p>He didn’t know it was possible to be <em>this</em> happy, all he knew was pining and dreaming, wishing and taking what he could get. If this is what he could have been getting this entire time, he didn’t find it rational that he waited so long, why the universe held out on him.</p><p>Stellar explosions had to be popping up around the entire universe, creating supernovas in all shades blue and green. The stars that generated the first time they touched shied in comparison to the astronomical wonders that they have now created.</p><p>They move to the bed, a giggling, fumbling mess; kissing as they walk, hands everywhere and stumbling over a pile of dirty clothes on the floor. Harry is gently laid on his back, hands locked down to his sides, as Louis crawls over him, caging him in; it’s not scary or claustrophobic, it’s <em>safe.</em> He's <em>safe</em>.</p><p>Harry feels a knee nudge between his thighs, Louis catching the soft whimper that tumbles out of him in his mouth. The space is filled with many unspoken words, years of want, and tons upon tons of unshared secrets, but as time passes the unspoken words are said, the years of want spilling over and dissolving into passion, and the tons of unshared secrets are out in the open.</p><p>They get into a rhythm of lips sliding against lips, tongues against tongues, until Harry pulls back, thumbing along Louis’ jawline. He feels his eyes start to well, but tries his best not to let it spill over, blinking rapidly.</p><p>“Louis…” Harry says, voice small and breaking.</p><p>It’s all too much. Everything he’s ever wanted is right in front of him, basically being delivered on a silver platter, and it’s overwhelming to say the least.</p><p>“Hm?” Louis nudges along his cheek, resting his lips at the divot between his ear and jaw. Harry doesn’t respond, only brings him closer to his body, now laying on their sides. They stay like that for a moment, neither of them knowing how much time has passed or whether the other has fallen asleep until Harry is able to speak.</p><p>“Hey.” He says, words muffled by Louis’ shirt.</p><p>“Hi.” Louis says, chin moving on top of Harry’s head to form the words. He pulls back from Louis’ chest, the sheets hissing beneath him as he re-situates himself. Their faces are barely a couple inches apart, so close that Harry can feel Louis’ small, even breaths on his lips. He takes advantage of the closeness, and the fact that he can, and kisses Louis, short and sweet. Resting his head on the same pillow, Harry admires him, taking in all his beauty, the beauty that he gets to <em>experience,</em> that he gets to <em>love.</em></p><p>“So pretty.” Harry mumbles, not expecting Louis to hear him. He does.</p><p>With his eyes still closed he huffs out a laugh from his nose, turning his face into his pillow to hide the obvious blush blooming on his cheeks. Harry brushes the hair away from Louis’ eyes, cradling the side of his face in his hand. He scoots forward to press a kiss to his forehead, then nose, and finally one to his mouth. A sweet sound fills the silence when their lips detach.</p><p>“Night, Lou.” Harry whispers, almost afraid to crack the fragility of the moment. He re-positions his head back into Louis’ chest, breathing in his scent, tobacco and caramel.</p><p>“Night, Haz.” Louis kisses the top of his head, carding his fingers through the curls. Harry hums at the feeling against his scalp, the sound buzzing in Louis’ shirt.</p><p>He’s pretty sure he falls asleep first to Louis softly massaging his fingers through his hair, warm and content cuddled in his chest, and happier than he’s ever been.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for continuing to read my work, it means a lot to me!! </p><p>Until next time, xx</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you enjoyed the chapter. It's a bit short, but I assure you the others will be longer. I will try to update every couple days, but depending on if I'm having writers block or if the chapter is just a monster, it may take a little longer.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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